A Worthy Love
by Cyn S
Summary: Three years after the Labyrinth, Sarah is approached by the temporary ruler of the Underground, who needs her help to save it – by helping him rescue Jareth from an exile that’s slowly killing him. (JS)


A Worthy Love

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Author: Cyn S. 

Summary: Three years after the Labyrinth, Sarah is approached by the current ruler of the Underground, who needs her help to save it – by helping him rescue Jareth from an exile that's slowly killing him. (J/S)

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

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_Chapter One: A Victim of All Her Fantasies Come True_

_*^*_

Washing up the dishes was definitely not quite how she had planned to spend the eve of her eighteenth birthday, Sarah thought as she placed the last glass in the dishwasher and turned it on. The harsh humming noise the machine made in the old, silent house offended her ears, and wincing, she switched it back off – she'd turn it back on before she went to bed, so she wouldn't have to listen to it.

After she dried her hands on a towel, Sarah began rolling down the cuffs of her full sleeved white shirt, she leaned against the thick wooden cutting block in the center of the kitchen, and looked up at the clock on the wall. It's face, printed with the same detestable pansy design found throughout the large white room, read half-past eight, in thin, black roman numerals.

If she had been a 'normal' girl, she'd probably have been attending some kind of birthday celebration with a few close friends right about now, talking excitedly about what had happened between so-and-so at graduation a few weeks back, and picturing going off to college in the fall – but then she'd never really had any close friends, before. Not any that existed _aboveground_, anyway…and even those had somehow drifted away over the past few years…

"Oh, _stop_ it," she murmured out loud to herself sternly, forcing her head up from it's seemingly perpetual droop, and her unconscious contemplation of the spotless kitchen floor. She had convinced her father and Karen that all she wanted for her birthday was a night at home to herself, and they'd been happy enough to grant it to her. It was a Saturday, and they'd taken Toby to a popular touring children's concert in the city, and planned to stay overnight in a hotel, giving Sarah free reign over her time, and the house, until late the following afternoon.

Determined not to waste precious quiet time feeling sorry for herself, Sarah pushed away from the cutting block, and crossed the ceramic tiled floor to the huge stainless steel, side-by-side refrigerator. She smiled at a scrap of manila drawing paper hanging incongruously from a fruit shaped magnet on the door, on which her little brother had scrawled a mass of grinning, horned, blue and red blobs that he'd insisted were _goblins_, and then opened the door to retrieve a can of caffeinated soda. Caffeinated because she didn't want any chance of having a solid night's sleep…and perhaps any dreams that might return to certain distressing memories.

Sarah hastily collected a mini-sized bag of buttered popcorn from the microwave above the white marble counter, and was turning away to leave the kitchen when she remembered she'd forgotten a napkin, and thoughtlessly whirled back to grab one from the porcelain dispenser at the center of the breakfast table. As she moved, she caught the reflection of the dark kitchen window over the sink in the door of the refrigerator – and the shadow of something standing outside it.

Startled, Sarah let out a short scream, and spun around, popcorn flying everywhere – but there was only an untrimmed forsythia branch from the bush outside rubbing against the obsidian rectangle of glass, in a breeze.

Feeling embarrassed and very stupid, Sarah sighed shakily, and set down her drink before she managed to spill that, too.

After she'd finished scooping up the popcorn into a dusting pan, and disposing of it and the bag, she decided to forgo the effort of making more, and at last left the kitchen with only her drink in hand.

Since the sun had already set, she flipped on all the lights in the large, empty house as she went. She felt a bit guilty for using so much electricity, and needlessly, but past - _experiences_, had left her with much more than just a _fear_ of the dark.

Sarah wandered into the huge, octagonal-shaped, white-and-beige decorated family room, and turned on the big-screened T.V. there. Before she sat down and made herself comfortable on the long, overstuffed leather sectional, though, she went to the three ancient, Victorian-style floor-to-ceiling bay windows facing the dark backyard, and quickly pulled every one of the heavy tan draperies securely shut across them.

Trying not to feel paranoid, she settled herself down, curling up in the corner of the sectional with a large cream brocade pillow across her lap. She cuddled it to her, feeling slightly comforted when she saw the faded, palm-sized pink stain that Toby's Hawaiian Punch had once left on the fine fabric. She recalled with glee the many times her snobbish step-mother had tried to remove the unsightly stain, but she couldn't feel guilty for thinking it was funny. Honestly, _who_ furnished a family room almost entirely in white when there was a toddler on the loose? 

Grinning, Sarah flipped through the channels on the T.V., quickly forgetting about her feelings of unease as she found one of her favorite old fantasy movies showing – _Legend_, with a very young, fresh, and attractively earnest looking, Tom Cruise.

She lost herself in the movie until the first real appearance of the villain – though she'd seen the film a hundred times, she suddenly found herself unwilling to watch the oddly compelling, giant, red-skinned, horned and cloven-hoofed demon manipulate and seduce the lovely, innocent heroine. She found herself comparing the rough, musical voice of the evil creature to that of another, less well-known, and far more complex 'villain' from her own past…

Sarah dug her nails into the pillow, and with difficulty, focused once more on the beloved story playing itself out on the flat-screen.

When the movie had at last ended, she found the remote, and clicked off the T.V. She ran her hands through her long, loose dark hair, and put her hands tiredly over her face, as if she were hiding. She lay unmoving on the couch for a long time.

It had been a very, very bad idea to allow herself to become so enthralled in the fairytale fantasy - she _so_ envied the characters' happy ending; but she found herself hating them for it, suddenly resenting the traditional, inevitable triumph of good over 'evil'…

_Three years._

Sarah saw a face flash into her mind from a stored away memory, and she abruptly sat up, pulling her hands from her face, and opening her eyes.

It had only been three years, but it seemed like forever.

*It's only forever - not long at all* 

"They're only words," she told herself sternly. It was a familiar reminder, though one she hadn't had to use in a long time.

Slamming a mental door shut against the remembrance of that deliciously smooth, tingle-inducing voice, which was only an invitation to revive old hurts and regrets, Sarah stood up from her seat, and pressed the knuckles of one hand against the tremble of her lips. Despite her long-standing  pledge to herself to not think about him, _he_ was never far from her thoughts…but she didn't even dare _think_ his name!

She didn't know how long she stood there, trying _not_ to think, but the sound of the ornate clock suddenly gonging loudly from the foyer had her jumping with nerves as it sounded.

Sarah stood very still, fingering a gold bangle bracelet on her wrist, waiting for the noise to end, and then left the room.

Walking down the hall, she seemed to hear every creak the old wood floor gave beneath her feet, every soft scuff of her flat heeled shoes on the antique wool area carpets.

She stood in the soft light at the base of the main stairs, and looked at the quietly ticking clock with unexpectedly tired eyes. It was after eleven.

Feeling exhausted, Sarah nonetheless dutifully checked the locks on the front doors and windows, before retracing her steps to the kitchen to re-check the ones on the drapery-shrouded glass French doors, leading out to the deck, gardens, and garage.

It wasn't until she flipped the light off on her way out of the kitchen that she remembered she'd forgotten to feed poor Merlin – and at that instant, the sheepdog in the backyard began to put up a whining howl that would be sure to wake the neighbors. Even worse, the ominous sound of thunder could be heard rolling in over the house, and she couldn't just not feed him, especially when it seemed he'd have to spend the night in the cold rain, even if he _was_ in a very well-constructed dog house.

Reluctant to go outdoors, but feeling horribly guilty about forgetting her faithful pet, Sarah turned, and reached out a hand to flip the lights in the kitchen back on. She went into the pantry, and lifted down a heavy can of dog food, then returned to the electric can-opener to open it.

Balancing the food dish in one hand, and the water dish in the other, she went to the back door, opened it, and used her shoulder to hit the floodlights for the deck – but the lights didn't come on.

A weird sense of déjà vu struck her at the knowledge, and she stared into the darkness beyond the French doors dumbly as the thunder again rolled threateningly overhead.

Merlin whined again, loudly, from the corner of the yard, and she heard his chain rattle against his house as he strained at it.

A cool breeze brushed against her strongly as she stared into the night, but it didn't smell of  coming rain as she would have expected.

Sarah swallowed hard, and finally nudged the door open enough for her to get outside. She stepped onto the wooden deck, and the breeze again picked up – her hair swung into her eyes, and she tossed her head to remove it, distracted by the sound of the wind chimes swinging together nearby, making a mocking cacophony of their usual delicate harmony.

Becoming rapidly anxious, Sarah quickly walked across the deck, her footsteps sounding hollow on the lacquered wood, and hurried down the steps to the yard.

She passed the white ironwork entrance arch to the dark, heavily scented gardens, and went directly to the grassy area where Merlin was tied. The shaggy dog grew excited at her approach, and panted loudly – the noise was actually reassuring.

Kneeling in the fragrant green grass, Sarah laid the dishes down before the dog, and tried unsuccessfully to brush the shank of white fur from his expressive brown eyes. Merlin snuffled her hand, and then quickly lost interest, abandoning her presence in favor of his food. She was surprised by how much she could make out in the night. From inside it had seemed as black as pitch outside. 

Sarah patted Merlin's head again, before standing from her crouch and looking up to examine the sky.

Not a cloud was in sight.

Thunder sounded again, nonetheless, and she frowned up at the large, pale moon above, and the many clusters of stars winking down at her. 

_*I'll leave my love between the stars*_

Sarah felt her lips tighten in a very sad smile – was it any wonder why she caught herself star-gazing so often? Just another thing for her eternally irate stepmother to berate her about – she'd disappear outside to feed Merlin, and would get so involved with staring at the diamond blanketed, black velvet above, that she wouldn't realize that minutes, sometimes even _hours_, would have passed…

A single hot tear rose and fell onto her cheek as the hold on her tenuous defenses of three years suddenly came tumbling down.

_*But I'll be there for you*_

Giving her head a shake to clear it, Sarah gave a frustrated sigh that sounded very loud in the night. "They're only words, they're only words, they didn't _mean_ anything," she whisper-chanted out loud.

_'Ugh! You're so pathetic,'_ she thought with utter disgust towards herself as she angrily scuffed the toe of her shoe at the ground. _'You're eighteen years old, you're not a stupid little girl with a crush on a guy who doesn't even exist to _you_, anymore, someone you'll never even set eyes on again! It's time to grow up. In a few months you'll be in _college_!'_

Her anger swiftly turned to Sarah stared miserably at the dew drops forming on the grass. It seemed like an awful insult to him, to refer to her feelings for him as a _crush_. He wasn't some - some _boy_ from school. He was a _man_, so much more mature than she could ever try to be, and a powerful king, no less - a very _dangerous_ king.

No, whatever it was she felt for him, she couldn't call it anything so childishly simple as a crush. 

The thunder that apparently came from nowhere sounded again, and Sarah shivered, knowing she should go inside, but for the moment, caught up within her long hidden away thoughts.

No matter how any times she told herself it was over, that she'd never see him again, even that it had probably all just been another of her very vivid dreams, she couldn't help but hope…hope was what had brought him to her in the first place, wasn't it? Hope was all she had left. It was _so_ incredibly frustrating, her seeming inability to let go of her childish beliefs, even after three long years of forcing herself to mature.

Sarah crossed the yard back to the steps up to the deck, and her fear momentarily forgotten, she sank down on the bottom step. She drew up her legs, locking her arms around them, and rested her cheek on her knees.

She didn't know why she couldn't let go…she knew only that she felt a sharp longing for…for _his_ presence…

"_Jareth_," his name escaped her lips in an unconscious whisper, and the phantom thunder again crackled loudly across the sky. Sarah put her forehead on her knees and closed her eyes.

*^*

//Look you upon the girl, my Lord…she strikes quite a lonely pose, does she not?// 

"Indeed…I am almost moved to pity," Kier commented lazily, his voice dark with sarcasm.

_//So, you no longer wish to see her disposed of?//_

At Kier's black glare, Azraeck shrugged his wings slightly. _//'T'was an observation, my lord, nothing more.//_

"When you meet the headsman at dawn, and are wondering why, you may blame that condescending tone of yours, dragon."

The small, winged black firedrake looked at him in gentle reproach from his usual perch on the curved back of the throne, the beaded jet of his iridescent eyes glittering in the faint, golden light of the single candle burning nearby. 

_//You cannot kill me, my lord – well, to be sure you could, but I pray you, be mindful of the fact that I belong to the King. He would be sorely vexed, would he not, to return to find his most favored pet's head separated from his body?//_

"Pet." Kier snorted. "You are no one's pet, Azraeck, and well you know it."

_//Pet, acquaintance, faithful subject, and servant – it's all one and the same, I say – save I do not receive recompense.// _The dragon returned blithely.

"Azraeck?"

//Aye, my lord?// 

"Cease your prattle, or I _will_ have your head."

The miniature firedrake didn't seem terribly convinced  - the threat was an old one, and a hundred, hundred times used. //As you wish, my lord.//

"What concerns you about that traitorous wretch anyway, imp? I should think you would consider the Underground well rid of her after what she has done. She has wrought naught but misfortune – she's cost us our King, sent everything into absolute chaos – and left me to piece it all back together. _Me_, Azraeck! _Me_, sitting on the Throne of the Underground! Its unthinkable, sheer folly."

_//Jareth would never have given you his power had he thought you incapable, my lord.//_

"I am entirely _too_ capable."

Azraeck apparently decided to leave _that_ particular cryptic statement well alone.

He stretched his long, scaled neck down as he peered into the dark crystal in Kier's hand. /_/She is lost without the king,// _he thought simply.

"Are not we all lost without him, good Azraeck?" 

The dragon cocked his triangular-shaped head, his unusual intelligence absurdly apparent. //Do desist in speaking so cryptically, my Lord Kier – there are none who intrigue to take the Underground throne.//

Kier caught the dragon's quiet words in his head and then waved them away impatiently. "Only because those who would, lack the awesome power necessary to hold what little remains of the land together. There are none who could hope to be his equal."

//You despair unduly.// Asraeck shook his gleaming head. //The King may yet be restored, my Lord – look you upon the girl again – at last, she cries; she weeps for what has been lost. Think you the love she holds for him is true?//

"Love?" Kier scowled as he stared into the round crystal sphere floating on his black gloved fingertips. "_That_ infernal brat?" He snarled a curse, and sat up from his indolent position on the throne. "'Tis as I advised our liege long before his Exile. I stand firm in my belief that what she feels is little more than a childlike adulation. After all, what does a mere mortal such as she know of our kingdom? She was a pretty enough toy for Jareth, to be sure, but what is there about her that would commend her to Underground royalty? To the King, no less. He allowed his eyes and his heart to deceive him – offered her her dreams - look at where it got him. Love changed him unto the point _I_ barely recognized him. I remember when last I spoke to him -  he said to me, _"I have loved _nothing_ so well as I love this girl, my friend. I would give up everything for her." _She betrayed him, and he did give up everything, including his very existence! _Love_," Kier sneered, "rubbish, the lot of it. Love is a trap and a deception. An idiotic affliction and a lie and a pointless, everlasting torment. Love is dangerous – especially to us. Jareth loved and was punished for it!"__

//And you are far above such pithy emotions, my Lord Kier?//

"Despite this form, I am still half-goblin, and therefore unable to feel love, as well you know, and am all the more the blessed for it!"

//'Unlikely' to feel love, is more the like. If you can feel outrage on his Majesty's behalf, you can feel love. You have a soul, my lord.// Azraeck pointed out gently.

"Aye, and 'tis a black thing indeed." Kier said this almost gratefully.

//Mayhap not as black as you would have yourself believe.//

Kier narrowed his black gaze on him. "Have you fooled yourself into thinking I am a good man, Azraeck? You surprise me."

//Nay, not a good man – but certainly an honorable one, with too many troubles beset upon him, too many cares and expectations that hang 'round your neck like a great albatross.//

Kier examined the heavy gold and silver torque that dangled from its chain, laying against his chest. His thin lips quirked with dry humor. "Nay, 'tis only the weight of his Majesty's borrowed power you speak of."

//It is an immense power, The Voice, is it not?//

Kier clenched his fist around the large pendant, until it's sharp points threatened to cut through his gloves, and into the skin beneath. "It is nothing if not a curse."

And so it was. The Voice, when it had been given him, had dramatically changed not only his outward appearance, but nearly everything inside, as well. The moment Jareth had placed the ancient torque around his neck he'd become more slyly intelligent, and infinitely more dangerous –  he'd been possessed of everything he needed to hold rule over a vast enchanted kingdom – with the understanding that it was only temporary. That was not proving a problem for him. Unlike most of the lesser goblins in the Underground,  Kier had not been greedy for power; he had never wanted nor asked to be chosen. He'd been satisfied to act in his usual capacity to his King – as advisor, fierce warrior when needed, and, perhaps, trusted companion.

The power did not belong to him, but to his King, and it had never set well within him – he was uncomfortable within his own skin, always concerned of his reactions to ill tidings and such, for like many goblins, he'd ever been of a violent temper – but this was why his liege had chosen him, after all. Despite their recent 'parting of ways', Jareth had known he would fight unto the death to serve him well; he'd known Kier would keep his power and the Underground safe to the best of his ability, and have no wish to challenge him when Kier at last knew of a chance to release him from his cursed exile.

For three mortal years he had, indeed, done the impossible – but the Underground was still slowly crumbling without its true monarch there to hold it together. 

Kier was no Lord, no matter what Azraeck or the other subjects called him. He was not the King's true heir, with whom the Underground would have been fine – but Jareth had no Queen, and thus no issue. He was what Jareth had always intended for him to be, ever since his banishment to the Underground by his selfish young mother – he was a pale 'shadow' of the King himself. An amusement, at first, and then, slowly, a son, a friend, a loyal subject…and at last, his undeserving, unanticipated 'heir'.

Azraeck's clever, reptilian voice had turned very thoughtful when next Kier heard it in his head. //You shall not miss being ruler when the King is restored, and requests its return?//

Lost within a bitter rote of grievances, Kier allowed the torque, The Voice, to fall its length on the chain, his dark, vitriolic features suddenly caught between a dead sort of acceptance and a feverish anticipation. 

'Requests,' he thought resentfully. There would be no requests from Jareth – only an imperious demand that Kier would be more than happy to meet.

"If you mean will I challenge him for it, then no. A thousand times, no. It will be surrendered to him all too willingly, with a haste bordering on rudeness, Azraeck. Be assured of that."

//You need not fear it, the power, my lord. You know The Voice acts only on the orders of its wielder.//

Kier's lips twisted. "That is just what I'm worried about, my pesky little fiend." 

The firedrake drew back his head, and looked at him with a doubtful expression as he rolled his eyes. //Hmmph. You give yourself much to live up to, my lord.//

Exasperated, Kier settled back onto his borrowed throne, and again looked grimly into his  crystal to observe the irksome little mortal who'd been the cause of it all…

The longer Kier watched the girl, the angrier he became.

But - if she was so selfish, so uncaring, why did she weep? Indeed, then, why did her soft, storm-washed violet eyes linger on the stars above with such a devastating expression of guilt? Could the dragon have been correct? Did the girl regret what she had done?

Of course she didn't – she couldn't possibly have known what had happened to Jareth, or to the Underground. The girl was only dreaming again of riches she would never have – but what if…

Slowly, a plan began to form in his head.

_//You seek to bring the girl here//_ Azraeck commented suddenly.

"Perhaps." His tone was light as he cast a glance at the dragon, but deep inside Kier had already made his decision, and the firedrake knew this.

//If his Majesty knew - //

"Ah, but his Majesty cannot hope to know, can he? Look you at the state of the Labyrinth, Azraeck. Is it not clear to you that the King has been exiled for far too long?"

//His Majesty is dying//

Kier hid his violent reaction to the heavily voiced comment too well.

"I know, you know, he knows – everyone in the Underground understands what the real punishment for banishment of a magical creature is from within it's wards for too long is – death."

//Why fetch her here, my lord? Surely you do not believe that she loves unselfishly? She must, in order to break the curse of exile - //

"Of course I do not believe that she loves him unselfishly!" Kier snapped dangerously. "But it is clear she may be our only chance to save the king, and the Underground itself! I shall make her love him, if need be!"

//Even if she does agree to come, you cannot force her to feel what she does not, my lord…and even if she does love his highness, the things that she must go through to gain his release, well…it is fairly obvious that the opposition will be no less than…monumental//

"Who ever said that she would have a choice, dragon?" Kier's eyes glinted harshly. "And of _course_ the opposition will be monumental. What better way for her to prove herself and her 'love' worthy of our King?" 

//You almost sound as if you wish her to fail// The firedrake noted curiously.

"Not at all. Far be from me to sound treasonous, Azraeck. I value my neck as well as you do yours. No, I do not wish to die along with the Underground…so I will help her."

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She knew he was there for several minutes before she really took heed to notice.

 She'd known this fear once before…

"Say your right words", the goblins said – ' 

Sarah paused in her panicked flight, her foot on the bottom step of the back porch stair, her hand clutching the white painted, weathered wooden newel post on the rail. Her heart beat so hard in her chest that it hurt, and her breath was caught at the base of her throat.

Forcing herself to remain calm, and still, Sara breathed deeply of the crisp, sweet night air, and breifly closed her eyes before she slowly turned to look over her shoulder at the dark mistiness of the backyard. The air was so quiet she could hear the sound of her long hair sliding across the black leaves delicately embroidered on her silver-gray vest.

Her eyes strained to see into the darkness, but her fears seemed to be completely needless.

Noone should have been there…but there someone stood.

Sarah's teeth set to chattering. "J-Jareth?"

"Ah - so you _haven't_ forgotten him, then. Funny, one could swear you wouldn't even be able to recall his name."

The figure stepped nearer, and she was filled with a strange mixture of relief and disappointment. He wasn't the Goblin King. In fact, Sarah couldn't think of a more opposite looking male.

He had the same slender build as Jareth, the same unusual coloring, fair skin tone, and wickedly arched brows – but that was where the resemblance ended. Whereas Jareth had always seemed to favor dramatic colors, this man was dressed almost completely in unrelieved black, and wore thigh high boots that folded down at the tops to reveal dark ruby lining. He seemed to have a taste for the gothic, with the long, full cut of his leathery looking black cloak that fell straight from his impressive shoulders, and the spiky cut of his long, glossy black hair. Where Jareth had been light, this man was dark; his lips were actually black, and the dramatic slashes of color beneath his brows were in shades of charcoal and silver. He should have looked utterly ridiculous, like a demented fanboy escaped from a Dragon Con. He should have looked like the first prize winner in a Halloween costume contest – what he looked like, in truth, was the physical incarnation of malice…or death.

As she watched he came forward, and to her surprise, because she'd definitely gotten the impression that he didn't like her very much, he knelt before her, taking her hand into his and pressing his cool lips to it's back. It was over so quickly she thought she'd imagined it for a moment…

*^*

The bracelet slipped from the girl's small wrist without her even noticing it, and Kier swiftly concealed it within his cloak, aware of a faint, cruel smile curling upon his lips.

No matter what her choice, her fate was sealed. As of that instant, he as well as _owned_ the traitorous brat.

Kier rose up to his fullest, most imposing height then, and arched a brow at her mockingly. Though this was his first time meeting her in the flesh, he was not impressed by her at all. This 'great champion' of the Labyrinth looked just as small and frail and useless as she always had in his crystal spheres – in fact, he noted with no little amusement, she seemed ready to bolt at any second. He wondered, not for the first time, how this human, this – this little, temporary piece of _nothing_, had managed to defeat both the Labyrinth, a living creature of legend, _and_ his mighty king?

"What is this?" He began to circle her, slowly, pausing now and again to peer down at her questioningly, making no attempt to mask the disdain in his dark gaze. As anticipated, his close perusal of her caused the girl to fidget uncomfortably. 

"No, it can't be – fear? Are you frightened, Sarah? You'd do well to be – I am no angelic winged creature to inspire such awe as I see in your eyes, Sarah Williams, nor am I here to offer you your dreams." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, mayhap your nightmares."

"Who are you? W-what do you want?"

"'What do I want?'" Kier laughed grimly, crossing his arms over the lean but imposing breadth of his chest. "A loaded query, that. I'm disappointed, Sarah – clever as you are, you haven't yet been able to determine that much from my black countenance?"

Sarah stared at him helplessly.

"Oh, come, come, Sarah. You've always had _such_ an inventive imagination. Surely you can guess? No? Well, I shall tell you what I _want_ – " Kier strode forward, his meager tenure of patience teetering on it's very edge. He towered over the girl ominously, allowing his rage to color the tone of his voice. "_I_ would have had your fickle, selfish heart torn from within your chest long ago had I so been permitted! I still would, did my king not have sore need of it!" The thunder pounded through the heavens again as if in protest to the dark magic crackling in the air around him.

Her look of awed terror from a moment before returned abruptly with this new information. "King? Oh, my God…you – you're from the Underground, aren't you?" Sarah slowly backed away from the dark, wicked looking giant of a man, her eyes wide as they passed over his warrior's clothing, his boots and gloves and high-collared cloak of unrelieved black – they halted on the oddly familiar golden torque around his neck.

"That – that was Jareth's," she whispered to herself with a sort of confused recognition. Her eyes rose to his narrowed, glittering black glare, and she felt she was under such a sudden, ruthless compulsion that she immediately looked away again.

"Yes, you have the right of it – it _was_." The dark man's voice lashed at her with the icy-sharp chill of hoarfrost.

Sarah went deathly pale. "Is-is he…dead?"

"Oh, _now_ you show concern? _Now_ you fear for his well-being? You share your distress far too late, Sarah."

"Answer me! Is he…?"

"He's as well as. You are confused? Would you care for me to explain it to you, in a way your selfish, diminutive mortal mind can easily comprehend? Well, here is the long and short of it - he defied the natural will of the Labyrinth when he allowed you to best it – "

"'Allowed' me? He didn't allow me any – "

"He did, sadly, more the fool he! His Majesty broke his own cardinal rule, and gave you a _choice_. What, so surprised, Sarah, to learn now that your 'victory' is hollow? He didn't have to let you run his Labyrinth, girl! He didn't have to let you win – but he did. Do you not realize that he gave up everything for you at the end? You denied him the _one_ thing that would have saved him." Kier jabbed a gloved finger at her, his jaw clenched tight enough to crack. 

"Stop, I-it's not true – "

"He _believed_ in you – he thought you beautiful, charming – _innocent _and sweet." Kier bared his teeth in contempt. "He fell in love with the idea of you, because of your childish _adoration_ of him. Yet I knew how inconstant your love would be, because of your youth, even before you ever set foot in the Underground; he wouldn't listen. He was the powerful ruler of a vast and endless kingdom and with six words you broke his heart, and brought him lower than any vile creature that ever slithered forth from the bottomless depths of the Bog of Eternal Stench! The devastating thing about it, however, is the fact that he truly loved you!"

Sarah's voice was agonized. "I-I didn't know! I didn't have any choice! Can't you understand? I _had_ to save Toby!"

"What choice will you make, now? He loved you, he who has _never_ loved! He offered you your dreams, nearly _killed_ himself changing the world for you – he _needs_ you Sarah. Though there are those who tell me different, I have seen little evidence that _you_ love him! And true love, unselfish love, is the only thing that will save him."

"Why…true love?"

"It's his curse, his punishment – he presumed to put love before his duty, and when he was denied it, lost it…the fate he was given was worse than death. Your mere acceptance of him would have given him the power to overcome – but instead you chose that worthless, squalling infant! You gave up true love to return to a world in which you do not belong, and life as a live-in sitter, and what did that child, that Toby, grow into anyway? A spoilt, disobedient, sniveling little heathen! He would have been well-suited as a goblin fiend! It's sickening -you gave up the love of a _king_ to rescue a child who would become as good as wicked anyway. By my troth, if I hadn't sworn to keep a tight reign on my rage, I would most likely _destroy_ you for what you have done to him!"

"You hate me, don't you? You think all of this is my fault, don't you?"

Kier sneered at her. "If it had been me, I would have left you to the horrors of the oubliette!"

Sarah stared at him, her anger surfacing. "You have to believe me when I say I had no idea this would happen."

"No idea - !" he scoffed.

She put her fists on her hips. "Oh, excuse me, I must have fallen asleep in class during Labyrinth Lore 101! Besides, how do I know this isn't just some trick, that you aren't an enemy of Jareth's, that this isn't anything more than a dream?"

"Dream?" Kier shook his head. "Are you inviting me to pinch you?"  
Sarah hastily stepped back, and he laughed mockingly.

"Fine, you want proof that this is real, Sarah love, I shall give it to you." He lifted his hand and removed the glove from it. He then took a small twisted dagger from his belt and handed it to her, hilt first.

Sarah eyed it doubtfully. "I don't understand. What – "

 "Cut me. I'm solid flesh, you'll see."

She took the dagger carefully, but shook her head. "I – I can't just hurt you – "

Kier took a step forward, deliberately crowding her. He wrapped his palm around the blade. "Squeamish, aren't we? I'll make it easy for you – pull," he commanded.

"No, I – "

"Perhaps I shall cut you instead," he murmured darkly, and startled, Sarah yanked away from him. He gave a low hiss as the blade sliced his skin.

Sarah dropped the very real feeling dagger with a clatter. She stared at the red blood rising from his palm. "You want me to believe you came from  the Underground, but you're as human as I am," she said softly.

Kier's hand closed tightly for a moment, and when he reopened it, there was no blood, no sign of the wound. He slipped his glove back on. "Oh no, my lady," he told her cynically, "I am no human. At least, I'm not one anymore – and haven't been for some time."

"I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe this is real!"

"Time is precious, Sarah. We must go."

"Go? To the Labyrinth?"

Kier laughed. "No, 'tis not that easy. To save Jareth we must travel far – beyond the Labyrinth, past the borders of the Underground. Here, I'll show you."

Sarah watched, fascinated as he effortlessly, intricately formed a round crystal in his hands. "Jareth's crystals were clear."

"And mine are dark."

"Why?"

"The power does not belong to me – I was not meant to wield it. I may use it, but I am not pure. My common blood 'pollutes' it. 'Tis why the Underground yet crumbles from beneath us, despite my efforts to hold it together. It's the imbalance, it's unnatural."

"And it's why you need me to free Jareth – so he can regain the throne and save the Underground."

"Your powers of deductive reasoning astound me, Sarah." He held it out to her, one brow arched in challenge. "Take it."

Hands shaking, she licked her lips, eyes darting from him to the crystal. With fear and guilt twisting her gut, she hesitantly reached out – and was instantly transported to another place.

Shivering at the sudden onslaught of cold winds, Sarah gave a panicked look around to see that she stood in some kind of ruins, high atop a sand dune. It was night, and there was little light to see by but what she could make out was an endless landscape of desert, painted monochromatic shades of midnight and blue. It was an unsettling sight to say the least.

"You look scared again, Sarah. Do you want to turn back?"

She whirled around to see Kier, standing directly behind her. His eyes glittered menacingly. She took a deep breath and slung her hair out of her face. "I'd be a liar if I said no," she admitted reluctantly. 

"How unfortunate for you then, that it's far too late for you to even think about turning back, " he drawled in a smug tone.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Can we just get on with it?"

"Time moves differently here, Sarah. The sands are treacherous at night, and even my powers are limited in this place. We will have to wait here until morning. It will be safer to move about, then."

Arrogant, much? Somebody sure had quite a fancy for himself. Who did that remind her of? 

"Wait? Here?" Sarah glanced around at the shell of the ruins around her, and sighed. She found a low flat slab of stone that rose up above the sand and walked over to it, determinedly settling down. She pillowed her head on her arms and pointedly closed her eyes. She sighed resentfully, and thought selfishly, just for a second, _'I bet Jareth would have at least been able to conjure a bed or something…'_

Kier seemed to take the hint. He said nothing as he made a place nearby.

The wind whistled through the old stones for a long moment, and Sarah sighed and rolled to face Kier.

"I just realized that I don't even know your name."

The reply was unenthusiastic when it came. "Kier."

"Kier. It's a nice name," she said carefully._ "Kier_ means 'dark', or 'darkest one', or something like that, doesn't it?."

He didn't answer.

"What does 'Jareth' mean?"

"He who comes from below," he informed her flatly.

"I should have known. So why do they call him the Goblin King?"

"Sounds better than just plain 'King Jareth' doesn't it? Lacks a certain note of dread."

"Seriously."

"I am being deathly serious. Take my name, for instance. Jareth re-named me when he passed on The Voice."

"So, what was your name before?"

"I do not remember it, nor do I care. My point is, the secret to controlling a vast kingdom of unruly goblins and other fantastical, dangerous creatures is to inspire a kind of fear – a sort of awe – in the creatures themselves. It is no easy feat, as the goblins haven't much to be afeared of. Usually, most things in the Underground are frightened of _them_."

"Are you trying to tell me he isn't really as bad as I think he is?" _Or thought he was…_

"No, he can be unkind beyond anything you could imagine, I'm certain, but he never wanted to be that way with you. Do you know why his throne room was so filthy and disordered? He was lonely. Jareth may have been cruel to you at times, but you can take comfort in the knowledge that you proved yourself to be the cruelest."

Sarah put an unsteady hand over her heart, and had to change the subject.

 "Kier, then - why would the Labyrinth curse Jareth? Why punish him? Wouldn't it have known what would happen to the Underground? I mean, if the Underground is destroyed, and falls apart, it would die too, wouldn't it?"

Kier was quiet for a while before he answered. "That I cannot say. The Labyrinth was here even before his Majesty, for all he calls ithis. Perhaps it became befuddled – as so many things in the Underground did on your first visit here."

The sounds of the night reigned again until Sarah found herself on the edge of sleep. A sudden thought occurred to her, though. "Kier?"

"Hm?" He sounded cranky and  half-asleep.

"What…what will happen to you when Jareth is freed?"

"_If_ he is freed…I'll return the torque to him."

Sarah's lips thinned. This goblin lord clearly doubted her ability to help. "What then?" she persisted.

Kier sighed sufferingly. "Suffice it to say, my presence will no longer be required." This was said with some bitterness.

"You won't die, will you?"

"Oh, now why the concern? Dare I say it may be because you have grown fond of me in our short time together?"

Sarah sat up. "I barely know you, but – of course I wouldn't want you to die!"

"I won't die, silly girl. At least, I do not think I will. I'll simply become like my old self again." There was a rustle as Kier adjusted his cloak around him.

"Were you…like the goblins in the city, Kier?"

He sighed, clearly annoyed. "Is that your polite way of asking me if I was rude, short, smelly, ugly and let's not forget, dreadfully thick?"

"I'm curious, is all."

"Sarah, _dearest_, I was a goblin, like any other. Well, mayhap I was a bit different from my fellows. I was – I don't know if you would call it more intelligent. I always just understood things better than the others. I continually felt the need to take responsibility over some things, and I made sure I followed through on all the King's orders, no matter how small or insignificant they may have seemed at the time. I had – and still have – a great respect for Jareth. He noticed this, after a time, whenever it was that I arrived as a naught but an unwanted babe in the Underground. He educated me, made me a castle guard, at first, and then I became his advisor, and his companion. After – after a while I was sent to oversee the working of his lands in the far western mountain regions."

"What? You went from advisor/companion to _overseer_? You must have done something terrible for him to have sent you so faraway – "

"Quite aptly so," Kier said dryly. "Thank you for bringing to mind yet _another_ reason why I harbor an immense disliking for you."

"Me? You – it was because of me that he sent you away? Why?"

"He asked me what I thought of you, just days before the others were stupid enough to respond to your wish – and I made the blundering great mistake of speaking truthfully." Kier's voice became  Always was damned inconvenient, that habit of mine to say exactly what I was thinking."

"What did you tell him?"

Kier snapped at her impatiently. "That you were an immature, troublesome, selfish little _child_ who asked too many bloody questions! Now, _be quiet_ and take your rest while you may, Sarah! There won't be much to be found upon the morrow."

"How long were you a goblin, Kier?"

"Sarah!" His tone was warning.

"How long?" she persisted stubbornly.

There was another sigh in the darkness. "About four hundred of your mortal years. Now go to sleep before I am _forced_ to gag you."

"Alright, alright! Er…Goodnight, Kier."

Kier didn't respond. He didn't like her, resented being anywhere near her, so why bother with niceties? He was still half-goblin, and he would take great delight in acting like one. Little Sarah Williams was about to be put through the test of her life. He would make it very clear who was the master here.

He fell asleep with a smirk on his lips.

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TBC

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AN: My first fic in a looong while. Feedback, suggestions helpful and very welcome. Thanks! * Cyn


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